Last Time on Chosen:
Andromeda hunts Mewtwo. Lucario hunts Ash. And Ash has awoken to find himself lost in his memories.
Chapter Two: Alone
Then another one bites the dust
It's hard to lose a chosen one
-Sia
Gary was made immediately aware of his feet, heavy on the damp cavern floor. He must have materialized feet first, for as the other parts of himself arrived he could suddenly feel the same frosty chill breathing through whatever shelter they had found themselves.
It wasn't the same ice palace as before. Gary supposed that might have been too obvious for their pursuers. But they hadn't left the mountains. The sky was white outside the cavernous opening nearby, letting in the wind. The roof over their heads was only half-formed — a natural skylight dumping snow and ice on them from above.
Gary shivered and stepped back into the frostbitten remains of a human tent. With a quick glance about, Gary noted a good handful of weathered tents and equipment, seemingly forgotten and forsaken within the recesses of this cave. He stepped back away from the pile of brittle poles and fabric, afraid that the tent was held together with little more than hope and prayer.
"It is not acceptable," came a voice in Gary's mind, not his own. "But it will have to do for the moment."
The thought didn't have direction but Gary still somehow managed to turn to face the pokemon who had spoken. It was hard to miss the more than six-foot tall pokemon, standing amongst the tents and humans like a formidable redwood in a forest.
Giovanni stood at the pokemon's side, a head shorter and looking like he belonged there. It was to him that the thought must have been addressed because Giovanni responded with small noises of approval. He may have looked the part of confident companion, but the man was still nervous around his previously funded experiment.
It only took Gary a second more to find the others. They were still unconscious, laying on the other side of the two surveyors on ancient ruined sleeping bags. Mewtwo had at least gone to some effort to make sure the sleepers had a safe, soft place to land. Even if the only thing he could provide were moldy-looking scraps of old fabric.
Gary practically slid over to Misty's side. She appeared unhurt save for a handmade sling holding her arm loosely. The skin on her injured arm was starting to purple and swell. Gary suspected a break and winced at the amount of pain she had to be enduring. And yet, Misty slumbered on peacefully, unresponsive to his presence. There wasn't even a flicker beneath her eyelids. Even with a gentle shake, he couldn't get her to stir.
Panic rose black and hot in his throat. "What did you do to them?" He demanded, only just able to keep the venom from spilling out his lips.
Mewtwo looked Gary's way, his expression as cool and distant as ever. The deep voice he projected held no hint of remorse. "They were caught in the crossfire unintentionally. Do not worry. They will wake unharmed in time."
That answered nothing and Mewtwo had to know it. Gary stood back up, hands shaking in poorly concealed rage. Before he could yell at the pokemon, Giovanni had stepped between them. He placed a hand on Gary's chest — holding the young man back and silently reminding him what they were dealing with. Mewtwo wasn't a pokemon you lost your temper with.
"Why were they knocked out at all?" Gary spat, only just keeping his voice level.
"I told you," explained Mewtwo rather patiently. "I used a move that they were accidentally caught up in."
"They were nowhere near you!"
"They didn't need to be. They were there before and so, it affected them. They might have some strange dreams, some brief unusual flashes of a memory they cannot place but I doubt there will be any lasting damage."
He still wasn't making any sense. Gary was about to say so when Giovanni interrupted.
"They were all on the island. Mewtwo had taken their memories before," Giovanni explained in an urgent but low voice. "He hadn't touched ours."
"What? But that doesn't explain-"
"It was about Ash."
A pit dropped out of Gary's stomach. Ash was not among the other sleepers. When he looked back up at Mewtwo, the pokemon nodded as if expecting it.
"Follow me."
They walked as solemnly as a funeral procession, deeper into the shadows of the cavern. Against a far wall, Gary spied what looked to be a slab of ice tucked into a sheltered alcove, mimicking the likeness of a bay window save for the view. And on top of the ice ceremoniously laid a still body. Gary felt his heart slide up into his throat. It took all his self-control to keep from throwing himself at the slab and draping over the body like a crazed mourner. It was Ash laying there, pale as death. The shafts of low silver light dappled his body, spotlighting injuries. Both his legs were badly broken — reassembled and held in place with makeshift splints no doubt managed by their psychic host. And there was dried blood leaking from his hairline, streaking his bloodless face.
Gary drew reluctantly closer to the macabre scene, afraid to confirm that he was indeed looking at his dead friend stretched out on a pedestal for a funeral. It was barely perceptible from afar, but up close, Gary could make out Ash's slow breath misting in the cold mountain air.
"What happened?" Gary rasped, only just able to get the words out. His fists were shaking harder; nails digging into the soft flesh of his palms. "How is he… How did he end up like this?"
"He attacked me."
Gary whirled on the psychic pokemon. "So you attacked back?"
"No," said Mewtwo. But nothing more.
It didn't take much for Gary to hate this pokemon. Their past history had set the scales against the two ever reaching common ground. But its lack of emoting, the casual callous way it referenced Ash's state of health only made Gary's blood boil.
It took Giovanni's quiet intervention to reign Gary in. He grabbed the boy's shoulder, not unkindly.
"Hey, hey. We saw half of this, remember? Mewtwo wasn't fighting. We both know that."
Giovanni's own troubled history with Mewtwo kept Gary from assuming he had anything to gain from protecting the pokemon. If not for him, Gary was certain he would have already engaged Mewtwo in a pokemon battle or fist fight… it was hard to say which baser emotion would have won out.
Mewtwo seemed to ignore most of their conversation, although it was hard to tell with a telepathic pokemon. He kept staring at Ash's sleeping form, a faraway look in his eye. If Gary didn't know any better, he might have thought the pokemon looked a bit haunted.
"I didn't want to start him down this path. But he gave me no choice. They both didn't."
Both Gary and Giovanni found themselves staring at Ash too. The boy slept on blissfully ignorant of their concern.
"What path?" Gary asked. "Who's they?"
But it was Giovanni who answered. "The path to get his memories back."
Gary had suspected that the former Team Rocket boss had been conscious longer than he himself had been. Now he was pretty sure of it. Clearly, the man had already had this conversation with Mewtwo. But unlike Gary, he accepted all the information with grace.
Gary was never one to quietly go along with anything. And certainly not with upsetting information like this.
"What memories? The memories of what it did to him?" Gary looked at Mewtwo, pointing accusingly at him. The pokemon met his gaze coolly. "Why do you look so guilty, Mewtwo?"
Giovanni hadn't reasoned this far ahead. It was evident by the stupid look of surprise on his face now. But Mewtwo gave nothing away. Just continued to stare right through Gary.
"I'm no idiot, Mewtwo," Gary continued. "I see how you keep looking at Ash. He's not dreaming like the others. You said the others would wake up but you didn't say anything about Ash. So what did you do?"
Mewtwo sighed, his breath coming out as a soft cloud. It was such a human reaction that Gary felt a momentary pang of empathy. He quickly shook the feeling away.
"He was damaged. This was the only way I could reverse what Mew's presence had done to his mind. I hope he wakes up. But that will be up to him."
"What do you mean, you hope?"
"Just as I said… it's up to him. He has to survive… again."
"Wait… again?" Giovanni interrupted, feeling, at last, some anxiety about the situation. "Survive again?"
"This monster killed Ash once already, or didn't you know that?" Gary snapped. He wasn't much in the mood for an absentee father's last-minute alarm. Let him fill in the blanks later. Gary wanted answers from Mewtwo now, not rehashing what he already knew. Although, Gary would be lying if he didn't get a small amount of pleasure from seeing the expression on Giovanni's face change. Now he wasn't the only one angry with Mewtwo.
Mewtwo decided wisely not to answer. Instead, he came up alongside Ash's comatose body and ran a paw through the air above Ash's face. He closed his eyes for only a moment as if the action were transferring some sort of update on Ash's current condition.
Gary wasn't about to let the pokemon pretend to be busy to avoid answering their questions. He stomped closer, closing the distance between him and the tall creature. Not much had changed from the first time he had challenged this monstrous pokemon. Gary had gained some inches, but Mewtwo still terrified him. Even without armor.
He knew only too well how easily this pokemon could pick him up and fling him down the mountainside. Didn't it already just rip him through time and space to this hideaway? What hope did Gary stand to landing a single punch?
No hope.
But he was much too angry to let fear win out at the moment.
"What happens if Ash doesn't survive his memory?"
Once again, Mewtwo met Gary's hot gaze.
"Isn't it obvious?"
"Spit it out."
"I just did."
"Say it… again. I want to hear you say it."
Mewtwo stared. And after a moment of silence, the words finally unfolded in their minds.
"If Ash cannot make it through his memories, he won't wake up… Ever."
Gary felt the tears welling involuntarily in his eyes. He furiously blinked them back. "How could this be preferable to… whatever he was before?"
Mewtwo, to his credit, looked taken aback by the question. "He was no longer Ash. I had to restore him —"
"You had no right!"
When Gary lunged, Giovanni body-checked him; though his heart was only half in it. It was clear he acted to keep Gary safe and not necessarily the other way around. Still Gary shouted around the old man, his emotions all hot and stuffed to a painful capacity in his mouth. He couldn't say everything he wanted to say to Mewtwo. Fury was turning him stupid and incoherent.
So he just kept saying the same things over and over, hoping the words heavy enough to hurt the pokemon.
"No right! You had no right! You murdered him! You murdered him again! You fucking monster!"
And it was to these indignant screams that the rest of the party awoke. Although hardly Gary's fault, it was still a pretty poor way for them to find out their friend was in a coma.
The giant hall was remarkably empty for such an anticipated arrival. Compared to the pokemon center back on the mainland, it was downright deserted. A part of Ash found this strange. Even Brock and Misty reacted with some surprise. But the older version of himself felt secure in how it was lining up with the other pieces of his memory. No, of course, there were not many witnesses. Mewtwo had only to wipe a few memories to erase everything that had happened on the island. Not a whole pokemon center's worth of trainers.
There was a single long table set in the middle of the chamber, made of carved rock. Everything else was crafted from metal, warped, and sculpted in such a way as to give a living feel to the inorganic. Pokeball-shaped lights glowed from the tops of pillars casting eerie reflections off the impossibly smooth floor. Beyond the table and trainers spiraled a slide that seemed incredibly out of place. Was Mewtwo going to slide down from the rafters?
Brock bumped into Ash from behind, knocking him out of his daydreams. He walked forward, only too cognizant of how his footsteps sounded against the polished floors. Past or present, Mewtwo seemed to have a thing for shiny surfaces. Ash supposed an ice palace wasn't a far cry from whatever metallic monstrosities this fortress was. It certainly didn't have any more warmth. Ash found himself rubbing his arms, wishing his jacket had longer sleeves to block out the chill.
"This place is creepy," Misty whispered.
Brock shushed her, glancing worriedly in the direction of the woman leading them. However, she seemed not to hear, taking her time with turning down the flame in the lantern she had used to light their way here. Ash couldn't help but notice that she had a clumsy time of it, her fingers fumbling numbly with the switch.
"Now that you are here all trainers worthy of an audience with my master are present," she said lifelessly. Her blue eyes looked clouded and unfocused. Everything about the woman, from her voice, manner, and dress, set Ash on edge.
"I can sometimes control humans but… it is harmful… to them."
Ash stared hard at the woman, trying to place her in the memory he was only just beginning to reform. Her eyebrows were a soft shade of pink but that wasn't much to go by. The rest of her hair was tucked within her strange headwrap, successfully obscuring what might otherwise be an easier face to place.
Brock kept looking back at her. Ash might have dismissed it as it was hardly odd for Brock to pine after a pretty face. He did so frequently back then, this was before he started dating after all. And Ash couldn't even be sure if modern-day Brock was much improved, seeing how they hadn't spoken for several years now.
But no, this wasn't the normal lovestruck expression. Brock stared at the mysterious woman just like Ash was staring. As if trying to place her.
"But there's only three of them. Aren't we going to wait for the others?" Misty asked. She was the only one not lost in trying to figure the woman out and was free to pay attention to what she was saying.
Ash silently scolded himself for getting lost in thought. That was much too future Ash and not like the precocious ten-year-old that had caught Mewtwo's eye in the first place. And what would playing detective here even matter? It's not like he could affect these events in any meaningful way. Or could he?
"Only the trainers capable of braving this storm have proven themselves worthy in my master's eyes."
Ash felt her eyes on him. No, not her eyes. Somehow Ash knew that someone else was looking out through her. He turned and met her gaze. He didn't really know what he was looking for in her glassy expression. He wasn't psychic… not yet.
"Please release your pokemon from their pokeballs and join the others," She said while walking away from the trio. They watched her go, all three jumping when the doors slammed shut behind them.
Misty glared back at the doors as if they had personally offended her. Ash only just noticed the egg-shaped pokemon she held tight to her chest. He stared down at the little trilling togepi, surprised by its de-evolved state. It shouldn't have been any more surprising than anything else he was witnessing within this captured memory. But for some reason, its appearance seemed to further cement this place as the past.
Misty caught him staring and suspiciously shielded her pokemon from him. "What is it?"
Ash gave his head a little shake. "Nothing."
Nothing I could explain, He thought.
He wandered over with the others to the only table laid out for them. The other nameless trainers tried to welcome them with greetings edged with thinly concealed contempt. The younger Ash would have certainly been awed by the teenagers and their impressive pokemon lineups. But eighteen-year-old Ash eyed them all and saw the displays of power for what they actually were — a bunch of show-offs.
In a few years, Ash and his pokemon team would look just as intimidating. But right now, they didn't take him seriously because of his age and pre-evolved pokemon. That was just fine. Ash wasn't here to impress any of them. Outside of this memory, they'd fail to exist. At least not in a way that would matter to present-day Ash.
Ash plopped down into one of the hard golden chairs and stared at the bowls of fruit on the table. He smiled weakly while plucking a grape off from the bunch. Mewtwo still failed to be charitable when it came to feeding his human guests. Would a cheese and cracker board really be that hard to pull off? Ash popped a few grapes into his mouth just as Misty leaned over him.
"Hey, what's with you? I thought you'd be excited for this?"
"I am excited," Ash said unenthusiastically through a mouthful of grapes.
Misty made a face. "You certainly don't act like it."
Ash shrugged and glanced back over to the corkscrew slide. It gave him a weird full-throated feeling. Or maybe he was just choking on the grapes.
"It's just," Ash began after a dry swallow. "Do you ever really look forward to something and then… it's not quite what you were hoping for?"
Misty frowned. "Well, sure. Sometimes."
"Right. This is gonna be one of those times."
"How do you know? You haven't even met the Pokemon Master yet."
Ash sighed. He really wished this Misty was his Misty. He could really use someone on his side. Someone who understood what was about to happen and what he was going to have to face. Maybe that Misty could have helped him, understood what he was going through, and made him feel a bit braver. It was so hard having to do this without her… and Pikachu.
Ash glanced up at the pokemon perched comfortably on his hat. This one spoke in a language he couldn't understand which somehow made his pokemon partner feel farther away than ever. Ash never thought he'd miss being able to speak to his pokemon.
Ash didn't know how all of this was supposed to work. Was he just supposed to be an unwilling participant in set events? Was he allowed to change anything? Did it even matter what he did?
He knew his friends wouldn't know the answers any better than he did. But they would have opinions and Ash felt more comfortable going along with their decisions than making any of his own. Especially when his actual actions had somehow ended with him getting himself killed the first time around.
"The Pokemon Master isn't who we think he is," said Ash in a low voice, speaking before he could think better of it. "He's trapped us here."
Misty's face lost a little color. "Wh-what? What are you talking about?" She looked wildly back at the giant doors that had recently closed them in.
"Just what I said. We're trapped here."
"But why?"
Ash frowned, realizing that he couldn't answer her question. That was a piece of the puzzle he hadn't unlocked yet. Mewtwo had laid down everything that had happened but never gave a why. The most Ash could guess was that it had been some sort of revenge plot against humans in general. But why punish this group of ragtag trainers?
Ash glanced about the room, noting each of the teenage trainers in turn. They were a fine enough group but certainly not the cream of the crop. There were older, more seasoned veterans that would have given Mewtwo the challenge he craved. So why them? And then again, why try to lure in trainers at all?
He scanned the room, trying to find the key to the mystery as if it might be hidden in the personalized architecture. Ash's eyes lingered on a Gyarados lounging in the shallow waters of a nearby fountain. His eyes slid over to a Blastoise not far away wading underneath one of the fountain's spouts. And from him to a Venusaur stomping his happy way over to a bowl of fruit his trainer set down for him.
A sharp pain erupted between Ash's eyes. He cried out, clutching his head and unable to hear Misty or Brock's words of concern when they rushed to his side. Even Pikachu was mute, trying to pat his cheek comfortingly. Ash only had eyes for the Venusaur… or rather his double that had appeared. While Ash stared, his vision crossed — showing him two realities at once. The double was injured, unconscious, laying just shy of the other while a shriek of "Bruteroot!" sounded in Ash's ears.
Ash stumbled to his feet, knocking over his chair. Everyone in the room was looking at him.
"He's going to steal our pokemon," Ash gasped out.
He didn't quite know how he knew it. There were flashes of something but the flashes didn't make sense out of context. It was just a feeling — an intent he could pick up on. Sort of like how Lucario could read wave energy. Ash felt like he could read traces of Mewtwo in the fabric of this retold story.
The mysterious woman had observed this whole scene from the shade of the spiraling rampway. She had removed herself from the others even before Ash's outburst. And when Ash gave his accusation, despite the sizable distance between them, Ash spotted her eyes widening. It was all the confirmation Ash needed. He jumped up onto the table, knocking the fruit bowl and unlit candelabra with a messy clatter to the floor. If the group of pokemon trainers hadn't been paying him attention before, there was no way they could ignore him now.
Ash instinctively snatched Charizard's pokeball off his belt. The other trainers armed themselves accordingly. The woman found herself startingly outnumbered by both human and pokemon alike. But she didn't appear alarmed. Bothered by Ash's strange fortune telling, for sure, but somehow unconcerned for her own personal safety.
Her blue eyes fixed on Ash while a curious smile played across her lips.
"You aren't playing by the script."
"Hard to play by the script when I don't know it!" Ash snapped back unthinking.
"And yet, you know already more than you should."
She waved her hand in Ash's direction. Her eyes changed color, flashing into an eerie shade of violet. Ash took an unconscious step backward. The other trainers threw out their pokeballs or ordered their pokemon to attack. But everything began to slow down. The pokemon lurched forward as if suddenly fighting hurricane-strength winds. Pokeballs spun like tops but never gained any ground. And then everything stopped. Everything except Ash and the mystery woman.
Ash stumbled off the table and to the floor. He landed on his side, knocking his elbow hard against the polished floor. Ash winced but with the help of a sudden rush of adrenaline, was able to push through the pain. After all, there was nothing like facing down a psychic to get the blood rushing. Ash rolled back up to his feet.
Although having been in physical contact with Ash, perched on his head as he had been, Pikachu had gone rigid with all the others. When Ash tumbled, he fell off and onto the floor, not unlike a statue. Ash couldn't stare at his pokemon partner long as the sight of him lying there almost stopped his heart.
He's not dead, Ash told himself. He's just frozen. Just like the others.
Ash sucked in a breath and held it. He hoped he wasn't lying to himself. But this was no time to fall apart.
It's just a memory. None of this happened.
Ash pressed the release button on Charizard's pokeball. Then he pressed it again. And again. Ash stabbed at the button with his finger, rapidly clicking it with no result. He cursed under his breath but still, Charizard wouldn't appear.
"I told you. You aren't playing by the script."
Ash glared over at the woman. She had closed the gap between them, standing only feet from him now. In real life, Ash suspected he would have been taller than her. But right here, right now, trapped in this near decade-old memory, she towered over him.
She took a step towards him and somehow stepped upwards into the air. The woman hovered before him, her brown skirts fluttering in an airless wind. She smiled down at him and Ash felt pieces of his courage whithering away.
"Who are you?" sputtered Ash. "I thought you were working for Mewtwo. How can you do all this?"
"None of this is happening."
"I don't know what you mean!"
"I'm here to make sure you follow the s—"
"Shut up about the script already! I get it! You want me to play out this memory like it did before but what will that even prove? Why are you forcing me to do this?"
She thrust out her hand and Ash felt an invisible hand close around his neck.
"You have to play by the rules," she explained patiently while Ash sputtered and gagged, scratching uselessly at his throat. "If you try to cut corners, you won't learn the whole story. And if you don't learn the whole story, you won't get your memories back. You have to realize, this is all for you. We are putting on this play for you."
She let him go at last. Ash fell to the floor, coughing gratefully. With tears still in his eyes, Ash glared up at the mystery woman.
"You never said who you were," Ash croaked.
She smiled, undid the sash tying back her hat and hair, revealing the wavy pink curls underneath. Ash gaped as she shook out her tell-tale hair.
"Does that answer your question?"
"You… You're Nurse Joy. But…"
"I told you. It doesn't matter who I am." Joy, or whoever she was, alighted back onto the nearby table. And as she did, a searing ripple of white burned out from underneath her feet. Like a flame, it ate up everything it touched — like an eroded piece of film. Ash stumbled back just as the white touched him. He could feel it shooting up his arms, threatening to erase him as well.
"I'm not really here," She said.
"And I'm someone you couldn't even begin to know," continued her lips as everything was swallowed in the white.
"Yet."
To Be Continued…
Please Read and Review!
The outside world kind of caught up with me for a while. I totally meant to post this chapter up sooner.
I'm currently employed as a new history teacher so it might take me a bit to update while I stay on top of all of my lesson plans. So be patient with me guys! I promise I'll keep updating for you all eventually!